Circle of the Moon (Soulwood #4)

by Faith Hunter

  “Hate to wake you, Occam,” Tandy said. “We have an incident. Deceased human female, vamp bites, and no one in PsyLED was notified. Nell shouldn’t handle it alone. Rick’s in his cage.”

  “Is it the girl who went missing today?”

  “Unknown.”

  “Is Margot Racer on scene?” Occam asked. “She was in charge of the abduction earlier,” the werecat said, suddenly sounding alert.

  “No. So far as we’ve been able to detect, she wasn’t notified either.”

  “Already tarred with the brush. I’ll call her. Send the particulars to my cell. I’m on my way in five.”

  “Copy that. Info going out now.” The connection ended and Tandy activated additional screens overhead as the officers and investigators on scene sent active video to their headquarters, something that would not have happened only a year past. Tech was making everything at crime scenes an instantaneous matter of record. Because of the same changes in tech, Tandy was also able to put up shots of the crime scene as they were uploaded to the coroner’s files and local law enforcement. All of which was supposed to be “eyes only” and encrypted.

  I didn’t ask how Tandy got access to all the info. I also didn’t study anything too carefully. There were parts of being an investigator that I would never get used to, and seeing crime scenes involving children, even children who were seventeen and older, children I had once been accustomed to viewing as adults of marriageable age, was one of them.

  Within an hour, Occam and Margot Racer were an active part of the investigation, though the conversation when the two special agents met with Detective Hamm was off the record. Hamm left the scene; minutes later a tentative ID went on record. The body was believed to be that of Raynay Blalock. Preliminary COD was exsanguination. She had been drained of blood from multiple vampire bites. PsyLED and the FBI were now lead on the case.

  I wanted to contact Yummy. I wanted to track down every single aligned and rogue vampire in Knox County and fill them with silver, but I was bound by laws and protocol and, as probie, governed by Tandy, who levered a look at me each time I thought about investigating on my own or contacting Knoxville’s vampires. He was right. I wasn’t a private citizen, so I stayed put until I received orders otherwise. If a Knoxville vamp killed the girl, if that was even halfway provable, that vampire would be judged and punished by Ming. Punished in this case being a vamp euphemism meaning killed true-dead. If the vampire or vampires who had killed Blalock were Ming’s enemies, then … I didn’t know what happened in that case, but it still wouldn’t be me who dealt with it. Occam called in to HQ and discussed the lack of official communication with Tandy, who called the sheriff and complained. Again.

  At four thirty, I peeked in on Rick, who was sleeping too hard, his breathing fast, too deep, his chest heaving up and down, as if he was chasing prey or racing for his life. The moon had risen around three a.m., and I wondered if the moon had affected his sleep. I decided that waking him would be dangerous and left him sleeping. I checked my plants again, this time looking for dead leaves, letting my mind wander through bits and pieces of information and memories, alighting on this or that, to no specific purpose.

  As daybreak began to gray the world outside, a white female walked up to the exterior door and knocked. Tandy adjusted the camera to get a good look at her face. It was Loriann Ethier. From New Orleans. Tandy’s hands flew over the keys as he determined how she’d gotten here, and he said, “She took a red-eye direct. Go wake up Rick. Occam’s on his way. The others will be here in half an hour.”

  “What about her?” I asked, staring at the screen with Loriann’s face on it.

  “She can wait until Rick says to invite her up.”

  Almost as if she had heard the words, Loriann looked into the camera, pointed to the side, and walked into the coffee shop that had opened at five for the morning’s business. Coffee’s On had the best coffee in the city, though I might be prejudiced. I was a regular. The security video from Coffee’s On appeared on the next screen. I looked at Tandy, who wore a defiant expression. “JoJo’s work. We have an in for Yoshi’s Deli’s security cameras too. In case someone goes after the neighbors.”

  “And do they know we’ve invaded their privacy?”

  Tandy might have flushed just a bit, though it was hard to tell in the darkened room.

  “We’re too kind,” I murmured, indulging in unfamiliar sarcasm. I shook my head and went to wake Rick, who was sleeping better as dawn approached. With a thick, darker-than-once-before fingernail, I tapped on the cage, the tone both woody and metallic. Rick rolled over, the motion all cat, lithe and languid, in contrast to his wrinkled clothing and scruffy, unshaven human face. “Nell,” he said. He seemed in control.

  I unlatched the cage and said, “You have a visitor. Loriann Ethier is in Coffee’s On.”

  Thoughts and reactions crossed Rick’s face. He rolled to his feet and stretched. “She didn’t wait to be invited.” He raised an arm, sniffed, and made an awful face.

  “Shall I go let her in?”

  He reached around his cage, grabbing his four-day gobag from the corner. “I need to shower.”

  “What if you get called to your cat while we make her wait?”

  He grimaced. “If I meet her looking like this, the initial interview shifts in her favor. Remember your Reid method. I’ll lock myself in and I’ll be fast.”

  The Reid interrogation technique was a method that got subjects to talk, and included a behavior analysis interview. Rick needed to be dominant to use Reid against a potential danger.

  Back in the conference room, I made a pot of coffee and opened the box of Krispy Kremes that an early arrival had left on the table. The box contained eleven donuts and appeared to be half lemon-filled and half raspberry-filled. I left a five and two ones, because I’d have more than one, chose a lemon, and bit in. It was scrumptious.

  Occam came in behind me, walked to the tinted windows, and stared out at the sky. His eyes were hollow and dark with visions of the crime scene. He didn’t speak, but stood so still he might have been a vampire. Something about him suggested restrained violence, a need to break something … or kill someone. I started to reach out to him, but Tandy shook his head, eyes wide, telling me to leave Occam alone. I dropped my hand and walked from the conference room.

  I stayed in my cubicle, finishing up my EOB—end-of-business—report and snipping dead leaves out of my hairline, listening to the soft murmur of voices as Tandy guided Occam to talk and they caught up on the night’s events. I heard enough to know that Occam was talking about the crime scene, and though I wanted to know everything, there was pathos in his tone. Occam needed this time with the empath. When he had talked himself out, I went back to the conference room, passing Rick in the hallway. He was dressed in clean black slacks, starched white shirt, cuffs folded up, and black shoes. Fancier than the usual casual black he normally wore. He was freshly shaved, his hair wet and slicked back. His badge and ID were clipped at his waist and he was wearing a shoulder harness with his Glock GDP-20 in its Kydex holster. I had expected him to look tired or upset, but he looked steady and oddly excited.

  “Call her,” he said to Tandy as he strode into the conference room. “Tell her to come on up.”

  “Call who?” JoJo asked. She was standing in the middle of the hallway, vibrant in orange and purple, hues that looked perfect on her.

  “Loriann Ethier,” Rick said. “She’s in Coffee’s On, having a croissant and a cup of coffee.” He tilted his head at the screen.

  “Well. That’s ballsy,” she said, skirts swirling as she whirled into the conference room.

  Tandy dialed and held out the office phone to Rick. The boss shook his head and Tandy shrugged, saying into the phone, his tone emotionless, “Someone will meet you at the door.”

  Rick made a slashing motion across his own throat and Tandy ended the call. Quickly, Rick gave us instructions.

  “I’ll let T. Laine know.” Tandy rose from his chair a
nd went to the door, down the steps, his fingers texting as he moved. JoJo took his place and shifted the overhead screens until we could watch as Loriann exited the coffee shop and entered the door Tandy held open. Rick sat, taking his usual chair at the head of the room. He was a silhouette in the brightening windows, the overhead lights still in nighttime mode. Occam placed a cup of coffee in front of him and put the box of donuts aside, clearing the expanse of table. “Sit,” Rick ordered. “Face the entrance.”

  Occam, JoJo, and I sat, spinning our chairs to face the doorway, our cells where we could see them but no one else could. T. Laine appeared from the locker room, glanced at the overhead screens, cursed succinctly, and took her seat, aligning her chair like ours, to face the door. She placed three pens on the table. Working for the cops, Loriann would surely know what they were. A threat.

  We were going for impact. For first impressions.

  The mamas talked about starting out as you intend to go forward. That discussion had been about marriage and the heady, frightening, upsetting, exciting days of a new marriage. Loriann was like a new wife entering an established home. Margot’s presence had done the same thing but without the bleakness I sensed in the room today. I guessed that the FBI agent was still at the crime scene, but that thought was for later.

  Together Loriann and Tandy climbed the steps, Loriann talking about her flight. About the weather, which was “as hot as New Orleans, though not as humid.” I might have expected her to sound nervous, but she didn’t. She sounded … not exactly arrogant. She sounded what the mamas in the church referred to as disagreeable, which was a combination of pushy, opinionated, and thoughtless. The kind of person who would say things just to cause trouble. Which was a really terrible thing for me to think of a woman I hadn’t met yet.

  And then Loriann was inside, walking down the brightly lit hallway, Tandy leading her. He entered the unlit room and took his seat, his chair facing the doorway, and held his cell in his lap where it couldn’t be seen. Loriann stopped, standing in the doorway, facing the unlit room. She looked from silhouette to silhouette, though it was clear she couldn’t really see us. No one spoke. Loriann’s eyes adjusted and she focused on Rick, the silver of his hair shining bright in the stark light of the screens, his eyes glowing cat-green.

  There was no reason for it, but I did not like Loriann Ethier.

  Rick watched her, letting the silence swell, an uncomfortable stillness that built and intensified, growing so thick it had weight and mass and density. Finally, his voice a low purr, he said, “Loriann. It’s been a long time. You look well.”

  It was so quiet I could hear her breath when Loriann drew it in to speak. “You look old.” She blinked, as if surprised to hear her words.

  Following Rick’s fast orders, Tandy tapped one finger on his cell. True, appeared on my cell phone screen and on all the others in the room.

  A twisted smile settled itself on Rick’s face. “Yeah. My father went silver in his thirties. Why are you here?”

  “I think if I go to the sites, I might be able to ID the witch by magical signature.”

  On my cell screen appeared a one-word text. True.

  “But I need to read the actual sites of the black magic to be sure.”

  Lie.

  Rick said, “Your liaison position hasn’t been approved.”

  “No. It hasn’t. But it will be.”

  A single word appeared on my screen. Uncertain. That meant either that she was uncertain of the truth, or Tandy was uncertain. Rick hadn’t had time to finesse the communications with our resident lie detector.

  A quote from Shakespeare rose in my brain. ’Tis best to weigh the enemy more mighty than he seems. There was nothing about Loriann that looked dangerous, but Loriann had multiple motives and lots of secrets. I looked at the faces around the table. The unit knew that.

  “Tell me what you know about the witch circle,” Rick said.

  “Black witches commonly use Circle of the Moon workings three days of the full moon. The workings are a curse. From the photos, it’s one of the most complicated circles I’ve ever seen. It’s not only a curse, it’s a summons. It has properties of binding to it. And even though I don’t know all it does, I’m pretty sure if it’s invoked on the dark of the moon, all hell will break loose.”

  True. Beneath it appeared the word Uncertain. Mixed messages from Tandy, resulting from mixed messages from Loriann. She was still standing in the doorway like a supplicant. This didn’t feel like the Reid interrogation technique. It felt like something else.

  “Summons?” Rick asked. “For what?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Lie. Uncertain.

  “T. Laine?” Rick asked. “Evaluate.”

  “Nonspecific,” T. Laine said in her best cop voice. “Ambiguous. And comprising little we don’t already know. Who will be cursed? Who will be summoned? Who will be bound? And what part of hell will break loose?”

  “I don’t know.” Loriann’s fists bunched.

  Lie.

  Loriann knew a lot more than she was telling us.

  “We don’t need you here for this,” T. Laine said, her tone insolent, a shade from insulting.

  “You do. You’re a lone witch. You need a coven to fight this, even if it’s only a small coven. A coven of two is better than none.”

  True.

  Rick said, “Step out into the hallway. Close the door. Wait.”

  Loriann opened her mouth to argue, closed it. Followed orders. The door shut with a soft snap. “Secure us,” he said to T. Laine and JoJo. Our witch nodded, withdrew a small moonstone from a pocket, and tapped it three times on the table. A small hedge of thorns leaped up around us, tingling on my skin. The hedge made sure our magical visitor couldn’t hear. JoJo switched off Clementine so there was no recording.

  “I don’t know if she can be believed about anything relating to this case.” Rick sat back in his chair, relaxing for the first time since he woke. Thoughtfully, he shifted his eyes around the table. “Assessment. Kent?”

  “If it was up to me, I’d set her tail on fire and put her on a flight back to New Orleans,” T. Laine said.

  “I’m not rich, but I’ll pay her way myself,” JoJo grumped. “That girl sets my teeth on edge.”

  “Occam?” Rick asked.

  The werecat shook his head, his eyes still haunted. “We got some bad stuff happening, boss. Too much bad stuff. If she has a snowball’s chance in hell of helping out on even a portion of it, then let her stay.”

  “Tandy?” Rick asked.

  “Loriann Ethier is lying. She is so full of anger, guilt, and jealousy that the emotions swirl around her like a slow-moving, dark tornado. But—” Tandy looked at JoJo, and she nodded at him to continue, as if there had been some silent communication between them, question and answer. “But I think the tornado is destroying her inside, rather than a landscape outside of herself. I think she’s profoundly self-destructive and utterly, dreadfully dangerous.”

  Rick nodded slowly, his head moving against the windows. “Yes. Yes. She has always carried those emotions, always been turned against herself. I think it started when she couldn’t protect her family from Isleen. Nell?”

  “If she stays, someone has to watch her. And I don’t want her at Soulwood.”

  “Why?” Rick asked.

  Because the land will view her as a threat and eat her. But I didn’t say those words. Instead I said, “Because Soulwood will magnify everything she’s feeling and it will affect everything that we do.”

  A single word appeared on my cell phone. True.

  I looked at Tandy. “Stop assessing me.”

  Tandy tilted his head in a tiny shrug.

  Rick sighed and said, “Open the door, please.”

  I was closest so I stood and opened the door. Loriann stepped from the hallway lights into the darkness of the unlit room, blinking.

  “You have a car?” Rick asked her.

  Loriann bobbed her head. “Yes. Rental.
”

  “If a liaison position is approved, you can stay,” Rick said. “JoJo, you have her number. Make a hotel reservation and text her the particulars.” To Loriann, he added, “We’ll see you at four p.m. For now”—he gave her a heartless, unamused smile and rested his arms on the chair arms, a king at ease—“you are dismissed.”

  I held in my grin. Rick had learned a thing or two from vampires and dismissing a lesser being was one of them. It put Loriann in her place. She frowned at us, whirled away, and left the building.

  Rick’s shoulders relaxed as he looked us over. “Well done.” Everyone blew out a breath and the overhead lights came on, making us all squint into the brightness. Rick stood and slid the donut box around the table. The others tossed in a few dollars and took a donut.

  I took another of the fantastic pastries and bit in, studying Rick even as he studied us. The vampire kidnapping and murder had to be triggering memories. Loriann’s reappearance had to be triggering memories. Occam’s distress had to be affecting his cat. Yet the boss didn’t look freaked out. He met my eyes and gave me a twisted smile. He tapped his ear, and said, “Music. It helps.” I realized he was listening to the spell music, which was why he was okay.

  The day shift poured coffee. I took a water bottle from the fridge, the label marked with an X and my name. It was a reused bottle filled with Soulwood water. When we were all settled again, Rick said, “JoJo, track Loriann’s cell phone.”

  JoJo’s eyebrows went up. “Can do. But do you want a warrant first?”

  “Soul is getting papers. Once you get the cell tracking, I also want the photos of the circles enhanced and enlarged as much as you possibly can. T. Laine, I want you to search the photos of the enhanced circles again, looking for anything we might have missed. Anything, no matter how small. And when Loriann joins us, someone needs to take her to the most recent sites and observe her. Whatever she’s hiding, it’s at the circles.” The IT tech and the witch both agreed. “Occam,” Rick said. “You went to a crime scene. Report.”